


Antigenic Shift

by esperance9801



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, and I can't think of something to accurately describe it, its kinda an unconventional fic..., so imma just leave it here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esperance9801/pseuds/esperance9801
Summary: Perhaps the saddest thing about being a country is that you'll always be losing something: your past, your memories, and people you wish could just stay with you a little longer.((The Iceland equivalent of the France/Joan D'Arc and America/Davie episodes.))





	Antigenic Shift

  
1956

It was back in those days when tourists were in high demand, and when their sporadic arrivals were a source of genuine happiness for Emil Steilsson, better known to those around him as Iceland. He was at a meeting with the staff of the sole travel agency in existence (he’d been working with them a lot, trying to help them aka help himself) when they mentioned the eight-year-old girl who'd be visiting alone.

 _What the hell_ , he remembered thinking. _What kind of parents let their kid come by herself to some random island in the middle of nowhere- I mean- a very… exotic country that's a very wise choice! Yes!_

The parents, obviously very well off, had contacted and requested for a full-time local guide to stick with her throughout the entire journey. And Emil had decided to take on the job himself, half out of curiosity, half because he couldn't bring himself to trust the agency (well, they had one job and they hadn't been doing it well). Plus, maybe if she had fun she'd go back and tell all her friends, and somehow the news can spread across her entire generation or something.

She arrived two weeks later, in her wake a servant who, after confirming Emil’s face against a picture of him in a file, left her in his care. Emil introduced himself, gave her the scarf that was a token from the travel agency, and, taking over her luggage, led her away from the harbour.

She was an incredibly bubbly child. She went on and on about what she had found out and known about the country, expressing her love for licorice, puffins, glaciers and geysers so much that Emil, despite being quite unused to such continuous and very animated chatter, felt quite flattered. She fell in love with the scarf too, just because it was patterned like Iceland’s flag, blue and white and red. Emil told her to wear it properly, but she’d only loop it once around her neck, letting it's over-long ends trail behind her. It reminded him of the once Belgium dressed herself up in her elder brother’s clothes.

And her eyes. Her emerald eyes were what Emil remembered most vividly about her. There was a fire in them and they literally sparkled as she looked with sheer wonder and delight at everything her eyes fell upon. It was one of those wonderful attributes of being a child.

He did what he had planned and more, bringing her to see the best views the place has to offer, telling her trivia and recounting Norse mythology, treating her to the best dishes at his favourite restaurants. And on the last morning of her stay he woke her up early and brought her to his own private spot he had never shared with anyone else, a cliff overlooking the sea. She had been a little down at the prospect of having to leave soon (It seemed like Emil had done his job too well), but her eyes lit up all over again as they sat watching the sunrise, the soft golden rays caressing her youthful, absolutely adorable features.

‘It's-- so-- pretty!’ She shouted into the distance. ‘I wanna _die_ here!’

‘Isn't it a bit too early to start planning your death?’

‘Then, maybe _live_ here? Can I move here to live with you?’

‘Well, sure…’ he replied, and she turned to flash him the brightest smile he had ever seen.

 _She looks like an angel_ , Emil remembered thinking. _Pity I'll probably never see her again._

He never puts much trust in promises, not to say one with a child.

++++++++++

1971

A few more travel agencies had popped up, having smelt the profit the industry was finally starting to scrape in. They now had enough sense to start looking for nice places to take nice photos and make nice brochures out of, and Emil was finally able to fully entrust it to them and turn his attention to economic development and tapping into renewable energy sources, both of which, to his credit, were going pretty well.

He still went to his cliff in his free time, of course. Even till then, he'd only shared the place with one other person, the little eight-year-old he'd never heard from again. The spot had, to his great relief, evaded the intense scouring of the travel agencies, though the frequent planes that streak overhead now made it difficult to have the silence he used to enjoy.

It was when he was watching one of those crawl across the sky that she came back. Emil had been looking up at the plane, half-dazed, trying to decide whether he should hate or love the loud vroom that meant more profits but less peace, when he became aware of a presence behind him. He quickly stood up, to see an unfamiliar face with unmistakable emerald eyes.

The next moment, he was enveloped by an embrace so strong he almost toppled over.

‘Emil!’ She exclaimed, pulling back to look at his face properly. ‘My god, you haven't changed a bit!’

A few minutes later, they were sitting side-by-side, legs dangling a hundred feet above sea level. The fire in her eyes hasn't died, Emil observed with a considerable amount of surprise. One would expect to find at least a tinge of world-weariness in the eyes of a twenty-year-old, yet hers still contained the same child-like wonder. In fact, when you think about it, she was almost exactly the same. Same eyes, same bright smile, an overcoat the exact same shade of turquoise, even the same old scarf draped loosely around her neck in the exact same way, its ends dancing behind her.

‘And guess what? I'm not here as a tourist this time!’

She had majored in environmental biology and chosen here as her base. He was initially worried whether his place had enough of biology to offer, but a few whale-spotting expeditions, polar bear sightings and puffin feeding sessions later, Emil had developed an unprecedented pride in his wildlife, and in those uninhabited areas even he himself hadn't set foot in before. She brought cameras along on these trips too, and her photos attracted of a crew who came in and filmed an entire documentary. More scientists arrived, research institutes were set up, and, of course, more tourists visited.

At some point in time he finally told her his secret-- the fact that he is the personification of the country, strange as it sounds. Her response contained minimal surprise-- not that she didn't care, but just because she didn't mind; she was the rare type of people who was amazed at everything but, at the same time, was never surprised by anything. Instead she was literally bursting with scientific curiosity and bombarded him with weird questions like whether he actually felt pain whenever a tree in the country was felled (‘No,’), or if he'd able to hear her voice if she shouted at the ground (‘No!’), or if she may be allowed to dissect him, pretty please? (‘Stay away from me!’)

But he had to admit that those times spent with her were some of his favourite. She even bought a house close to his, so when he got too busy to be able to join her on her expeditions (she had an entire team of researchers with her by then) she could drop in frequently to share about her new conservation project, to show him photos of a rare sighting of narwhals off the coast, to advise him on his geothermal energy extraction efforts, or simply to play with his cat.

++++++++++  
2010

The past few years had been especially tiring ones; the economic crisis had hit Emil hard, but thankfully he'd managed to ride out the storm. Owing to all the work they both had to do they hadn't been able to come to their old spot for a long time, but for now, at least, they were sitting at the edge of the cliff, watching the sun slowly sinking into the orange-tinted sea.

‘Emil? I feel like this might be the last time I'm here.’

Emil stole a quick glance at her. She had never been one to start talking about 'the last times' or ends.

But maybe it was about time she does.

‘We should go back,’ Emil suggested instead of answering her directly. The sun had completely set. ‘It's going to get cold out here.’

‘Let's stay here a little longer,’ she said. ‘Maybe there'll be Lights tonight; we haven't watched it from here for a long time.’

The Northern Lights season only starts in September, which means that they weren't due in at least another week, but sometimes, if you're extremely lucky that is, they might just decide to come early.

So Emil conceded. The two sat in silence, watching and waiting.

Of course, as expected, no Lights blessed them with their presence that night. At a little past midnight they decided to leave; Emil made sure that her scarf was secure around her neck and held out his arm for her to lean onto, before the two made their slow, laborious way downhill.

  
++++++++++

2018

  
The skies are ablaze with Northern Lights. A plane streaks across, and Emil can imagine the delight on its passengers’ faces.

He is standing at his cliff which, amazingly, has remained one of the rare spots that he can still have to himself. A bouquet of forget-me-nots, tied with a piece of violet ribbon, lies at his feet.

‘Everything’s going really smoothly these days,’ he starts cheerfully, though no one is there to listen. ‘The economy's booming… Tourism too. We've got two million tourists this year, that's like six times our population!’

The Northern Lights sways slowly in response, giving no indication whether or not it has heard him.

‘It gets a little overwhelming at times though. And, I dunno why, it's so much livelier than before but I've been feeling a little… lonely?’

His words fades into the silence. He stays there for a few more minutes, as if expecting a response, but none comes.

‘Alright. Next time then,’ he says eventually, turning to leave. The wind billowed and the ends of his scarf flies behind him. It is a very old and worn-out scarf, but it still does its job of keeping him warm well, so he keeps it around his neck still.

A few days later, the place is discovered by one of the countless travel agencies who are eternally scouting for new attractions. Emil can still go there, but he feels that it is now different, as if something about it is just lost.

He stops visiting it afterwards.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I'm just gonna leave this here. Thanks for taking time to read this little fic. Please do feel free to leave comments and reviews:3


End file.
